


R and R

by Ralkana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Beaches, Community: cottoncandy_bingo, Dirty Talk, Hawaii, M/M, Massage, Porn Battle, Rimming, Surfing, Trope Bingo Round 3, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:46:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm just saying, sir, we're in <em>Hawaii.</em> Come on, it's been a hell of an op, and it's over now, we're due for some R and R."</p>
            </blockquote>





	R and R

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine. I'm just playing with them.
> 
> Written for Porn Battle Round 15, for the prompts _beach_ and _massage_ , for my Cotton Candy Bingo Round 2 "beach" square, and for my Trope Bingo Round 3 "holidayfic" square.
> 
> Thanks to Feelschat and the Clint/Coulson Strike Team for all the cheerleading. I needed it for this one!
> 
> It's not Valentine's fluff, but it is fluffy smut, and I wanted to post it today as a gift to everyone who loves these boys as much as I do. Happy Valentine's day, Clint/Coulson fandom. I love everyone in this bar.
> 
> **Takes place sometime before _The Avengers_.**

 

The half dozen cars pulled up to the warehouse SHIELD was using as a temporary command center within seconds of each other, forming a loose phalanx, all matte black and fierce looking with the SHIELD logo emblazoned on the doors.

The driver's side and passenger's side doors of the lead car opened at the same time, and Clint was already talking as he climbed out.

"I'm just saying, sir, we're in _Hawaii._ Come on, it's been a hell of an op, and it's over now, we're due for some R and R."

"Are you ever going to stop talking, Barton?" Phil opened the rear passenger door, yanking out their prisoner. His hands were cuffed behind him, and he blinked lethargically, still recovering from the effects of Clint's tranq arrow.

"Not until you ask Dad if we can sleep over," Clint countered, grinning as he heard a stifled snicker from one of the agents behind him.

"Enough, Barton," Phil said, but Clint could hear the fondness hidden in the exasperation.

Their suspect opened his mouth, and Clint propelled him forward with a shove between his shoulderblades.

" _You_ shut up. Nobody cares what you think."

"Debriefing in twenty minutes, everyone. Thanks for your hard work."

Phil glanced at Clint one last time, giving him a blink Clint recognized as a _see-you-later-love-you_ blink, and Clint returned it and then peeled off to clean and stow his gear and take a quick shower. Phil and most of the others continued on, leading the suspect to a holding area.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

The debriefing went smoothly, and quickly, as Phil's debriefings always did. The operation -- breaking up a sex trafficking ring that was also trading in arms with very highly suspicious origins -- had taken months and involved dozens of agents, but the final breakdown of information was being handled swiftly and with ruthless efficiency.

Clint his his smile as Phil took the time to praise a couple of the junior agents for their quick thinking or bravery, and the juniors blinked in surprise and tried -- and failed -- not to preen. Phil was never effusive in his praise, but he was always sincere.

"One last item to discuss," Phil said, just when they'd all started to believe they were done. There weren't any outright groans, but there was definitely some restless shifting.

"In appreciation for your hard work during this operation, Deputy Director Hill has authorized 72 hours of leave for everyone involved in the last phase of this operation."

An excited murmur spread through the dozens of agents present, and Clint nearly laughed out loud. _He actually fucking did it_ , he thought. _I could kiss you right here and now, Phil._

That could wait, however, because they were on leave. In Hawaii.

"There is a SHIELD transport leaving here for HQ in three hours, for those who wish to spend their leave at home. For those who would rather stay local, another SHIELD transport will be here 51 hours from now, or you can find your own way home. Please remember that SHIELD is not to be expensed for room and board on your leave, should you choose to stay. Dismissed."

The room cleared with the speed of a classroom at recess, until it was only Clint lingering, and Phil.

"You too, right?" Clint asked, and Phil looked up from where he was gathering up files. "It's not just _me_ on vacation in a tropical paradise all of a sudden, right? You're on leave too?"

Phil smiled, his at-work smile, but with Clint it reached his eyes in a way it never did with anyone else.

"Me too," he said, and Clint whooped and hopped around in a ridiculous little victory dance. It made Phil laugh, a warm little half-exasperated huff, and Clint considered that just as much of a victory.

"I've got a couple of hours of work left first," Phil clarified, "But yes, then I'm on leave. Would you mind finding us lodging and securing our gear while I'm finishing up here?"

"On it, sir," Clint said with a grin, happiness bubbling up in him. Leave with Phil. In _Hawaii._ This was, he realized, the first vacation-type time they'd had in the nearly a year they'd been together. He was determined to make the best of it, no matter how unexpected or short it was.

"And eat something," Phil added.

"I'll wait for you, I know you haven't eaten either."

"I wasn't up on a roof in the sun for six hours waiting to make a shot. Eat something. Consider it my last order before we go on leave."

When Clint just eyed him, unimpressed, Phil sighed and began sorting files again.

"I'll grab something too," he conceded. Something in one of his files caught his attention, and he said absently, "Send me the details of where we'll be staying, please?"

Clint watched as he picked up a pen and circled something in one of the reports, writing a short note beside it in his neat script.

"We don't need a hotel room, do we, sir? I figured we'd just beach bum it for a couple of days. That all right with you?"

Phil just nodded, still reading, and Clint smiled fondly and shook his head. If Phil wasn't on the beach with him in three hours, he was coming back here and dragging him out by his tie.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Clint found them a hotel room and then did a little shopping -- their on-a-mission gear bags weren't exactly adequate for lounging on the beach -- before stowing their things and texting Phil with the location of the hotel.

He got back a _10-4_ in reply and responded with, _Eat something._

Phil sent him a picture of a sandwich that actually looked pretty good. Clint's stomach growled at the sight of it, so he changed and headed to the hotel cafe for his own lunch before finally making it down the the beach right outside their hotel.

Renting a couple of beach chairs and an umbrella, he spread out the towels he'd bought for them and settled back into one of the chairs to relax for just a moment. 

"Pretty obvious why he chose to hide out here," Clint said to himself as he gazed into the water, clear at the beach and fading into a beautiful turquoise. Given the choice, he supposed he'd rather settle in Hawaii then Zagreb.

He wiped the sweat off his brow and reseated his sunglasses, closing his eyes as he stretched out.

He dozed on and off in the warmth of the sun for a little while until a child shrieked right by his ear. Startling awake, he fought every instinct to roll off the lounger and drop into a defensive crouch.

The girl who'd yelled, and the boy -- her brother, it seemed -- who was chasing her with a plastic pail full of water, went racing down the beach, and Clint scrubbed a hand over his face.

He'd lost half an hour to his nap, which meant that he had about forty five minutes before he went to drag Phil away from his work. He glanced at the beachfront bar, contemplating getting something really tropically alcoholic, when a very familiar pair of feet in new flip-flops appeared in his field of vision. He grinned, glancing up to see Phil standing in front of him in the trunks Clint had bought. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt that Clint recognized as one of his undershirts instead of the super classy "Let's Get Lei'd" t-shirt Clint had bought and set out next to the trunks.

Clint pouted at him. "Aww, sir, you're no fun."

Phil's face, if possible, looked even more unimpressed behind his aviators, and Clint knew he was getting That Glare because of the trunks he'd picked. They were red, white, and blue -- patriotic in color if not in pattern.

"I could've bought you the ones with the actual shield, Phil. Tiny shields and flags mixed in with pineapples and palm trees. They had your size."

"I appreciate your restraint," Phil said dryly, and Clint resolved to take him back and show him the _even tackier_ Captain America Aloha shirt he'd seen, if only for the fun of watching Phil's left eye twitch at the sight.

"Sit down, Phil. Relax. I'll go order us a couple of drinks that come in pineapples with colorful straws and fruit sticking out."

Phil was looking down the beach, shading his eyes with his hand.

"Let's go for a walk instead?" he suggested, and Clint blinked at him in surprise.

"Sure," he agreed. Their chairs were rented for the day; they could come back later and lounge if they wanted to. He stood and followed Phil as he led the way back to the concrete path that stretched along the beach. Bumping shoulders companionably with Phil, Clint grinned when he looked over. "Hi."

"Hi."

To Clint's utter shock, Phil brushed Clint's hand with his own and then tangled their fingers together. He stared down at their joined hands, and Phil's fingers twitched in his.

"This okay?" Phil asked quietly, jolting Clint, who quickly nodded, fingers unconsciously squeezing Phil's so he wouldn't let go.

"Course," he said, tamping down his grin so he wouldn't look like so much of an idiot. He was a grown ass man -- holding his boyfriend's hand in public should not make him want to turn cartwheels down the beach.

They walked along for a few minutes, hand in hand, Phil politely nodding at the people they passed. Clint laughed, drawing Phil's attention back to him.

"Long walks on the beach hand in hand, huh, Phil?"

The corner of Phil's mouth kicked up in a smile. "It's a classic for a reason."

The beach in front of their hotel was a swimming beach, water clear and calm and filled with kids and families. As they walked, the water grew less calm and more active, increasingly dotted with bodyboarders and surfers. Clint grinned at the sight of a couple of shaky surfers riding what was clearly their first waves.

Phil paused in front of an equipment rental shack, fingers tugging gently at Clint's until he stopped too.

"Want to?" Phil asked with a glance at the kiosk, where the smiling attendant was handing a group of teenagers surfboards and wetsuits.

Phil's clear blue eyes were sparkling with excitement and anticipation. It was catching.

"Yeah," Clint said with a smile. "Okay, why not?"

It'd been six or eight years since he'd been on a board, but he knew it'd come back quickly. His excitement grew at the thought of knowing how to do something Phil didn't, giving him tips and watching him learn something new. That was always incredibly hot.

They rented wetsuits and boards and changed in the tiny, cement-floored side-by-side dressing stalls, stepping out at the same time.

Clint whistled low and long. The neoprene clung to Phil's form, highlighting strong muscles usually well-hidden under expensive silk/wool blend.

"Swear, boss, we ever get you into a tac suit, you're gonna short out the brains of everyone on the op," he murmured.

Phil glared at him, but his cheeks went a little pink at Clint's words, and Clint grinned.

"Not gonna ogle me back?" Clint pouted, turning to best show off his ass in the tight wetsuit. "I'm hurt."

Phil snorted as he squirted sunblock into his palm. "You act like I don't spend every damn day staring at your ass in neoprene and spandex. I'm immune to it."

"No you're not," Clint shot back, wiggling his ass.

"God, come here," Phil said, rolling his eyes. His gaze immediately returned to Clint's ass, though, and Clint smiled triumphantly.

They sunblocked each other up and moved toward the beach. Clint expected Phil to head for the little surf school kiosk next to the rental place, stopping in surprise when Phil headed straight for the water.

He glanced back at Clint. "You coming?"

Clint huffed a laugh under his breath, shaking his head. "Of course you already know how to surf," he muttered to himself. "What was I thinking?"

"Clint?"

"Lead the way, sir."

Phil grinned at him and plunged into the surf. He was pretty shaky at first -- Clint could see that he obviously hadn't done this in far more years than it'd been since Clint had last done it -- but within minutes, he looked as comfortable out there as any of the other veterans. Clint couldn't help the burst of fond pride that surged through him.

With every wave, a little more of the tension and the bland Agent Coulson mask Phil always wore fell away, leaving only Phil behind -- eager and playful, racing Clint through the waves, splashing cool water at him as they paddled and waited for the next wave.

Phil wiped out several times but came up laughing, water weighing down his fine hair and dripping off the tip of his nose.

He was gorgeous, relaxed and happy, and Clint resolved to drag him back here as soon as possible, for more than just a couple of days. He hadn't thought it was possible, but he fell even more in love, and if he spent much of the afternoon just paddling in the surf and watching Phil have a blast, well, he didn't think anybody could blame him.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

They had dinner at their hotel's beachfront restaurant, sharing appetizers and a bottle of wine as the sun sank into the ocean in a brilliant display of pinks and reds and oranges. Clint had seen a lot of sunsets in a lot of different places, and this one was definitely in his top five. But that might have been because of the man sitting beside him.

Phil looked serene and content as the watched the day fade into twilight, a small smile on his face, eyes crinkling at the corners. He was wearing khakis and a crisp white button down and had donned his glasses after his long day. The sun had brought out the freckles on his face, and despite his best efforts, his cheeks were a little pink, which provided a very nice contrast with the five o'clock shadow on his jaw.

He glanced over and caught Clint staring. Again.

"What?"

 _You're adorable and hot as fuck and also, I want to trace your freckles with my tongue,_ Clint thought, but all he said was, "I didn't know you knew how to surf. You never mentioned it, and I know you heard Woo and me comparing beaches that one time in Johannesburg."

Phil shrugged, smiling politely at the server as she brought their entrees. Hungry from the morning's op and the afternoon's exercise, Clint immediately dug into his grilled Mahi-Mahi, nearly moaning as it hit his tongue.

Phil tasted his own fish, eyes lighting up in pleasure, and it made Clint want to drag him across the table and kiss the flavors right out of his mouth.

"Opportunities are rare. It's been so long since I've tried it, I was a little afraid I was going to make a pretty spectacular fool of myself," Phil said with a wry grin.

"Nah. You looked -- " _really happy_ " -- pretty good out there."

"You looked pretty good yourself."

"Did you learn as a kid?"

"In the Rangers. Here, as a matter of fact, or on the other side of the island, actually. Nick and I were here on leave around, God, twenty, twenty five years ago, and he wanted to try it. Wouldn't let me sit on the beach and read."

"Like you'd ever sit on the beach and read. You probably wanted to hike up a freaking volcano or something, instead."

Phil said nothing, simply taking another bite of his dinner, and Clint grinned. _Bingo_ , he thought.

He laughed. "Next time the director's ripping a strip off me, I'm going to be thinking about him going ass over teakettle the way you did a couple of times today and mentally laughing my ass off."

"Yes, well, I'd recommend not laughing about it to his face, but..." he smiled slyly. "He did have some pretty spectacular wipeouts."

Clint laughed again.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

After dinner, they decided to take in the nightly entertainment the hotel offered, a show of native dance and music with a pretty awesome backdrop of fireworks. They curled together on one of the outdoor loveseats to watch, Clint smiling happily as Phil slid an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer.

He noticed, however, that Phil shifting was restlessly as the show went on, grunting a couple of times as he did so.

After the show was over, and they'd sat for a moment or two letting the crowd dissipate and just absorbing the atmosphere, Clint stood, putting a hand out to pull Phil to his feet. He grimaced, just a little, rotating his left shoulder.

"Everything okay?"

"Jammed it a little against the sand earlier, that's all. It's a bit sore, not really hurt. I'll be fine."

Clint frowned, thinking. "Why don't you go up to the room and let the hot water in the shower pound on it for a little while, see if that helps? I'll be up soon."

Phil narrowed his eyes at him.

"Why, Agent Barton, are you planning something?"

Clint leered at him and wiggled his fingers in the air. "Plans. Very definite plans," he said, and Phil laughed, snagging his belt loops to pull him in for a little kiss.

His laughter came so free and easy, and the kiss was quick and sweet, and Clint never wanted to leave Hawaii. He was going to swat Phil on the ass and then decided that even as relaxed as Phil was, that probably wasn't the best idea. He settled for planting a hand in the small of Phil's back and giving a gentle shove.

"Go. I'll be up in a bit."

He felt no shame about watching Phil's ass as Phil walked away.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

When Clint got up the room, Phil was still in the shower, so he took a few moments to get things set up the way he wanted. He stripped the spread off the bed and brought their towels in from where they'd put them earlier on the lanai to dry, draping them over the sheets to protect them, and set the purchase he'd just made and the supplies he'd bought earlier to the side of the bed, down on the floor where Phil wouldn't see them right away. Then he stripped down, slipping on a pair of black sweatpants, his preferred off-duty wear when he was on a mission. He didn't bother with a shirt. Or underwear.

He contemplated turning on the TV to see if he could maybe find a music channel, and then he cracked up, imagining Phil's face if he got out of the shower to the sound of Barry White or something. He almost did it just for that reason, but the shower turned off as he was reaching for the remote.

"Don't worry about getting dressed," he called, and there was a moment of stillness.

"That sounds promising," Phil said, and Clint could hear the grin in his voice.

"Told you I had plans."

Phil came out of the tiny bathroom, towel around his waist, hair fluffed up and still damp. He was flushed from the heat of the shower, his cheeks even pinker than they'd been earlier, and next to the way he looked when he first woke up, bedhead everywhere and blinking owlishly at Clint, this was Clint's favorite view of him. He was soft and warm and _human_ in a way that no one else got to see him, and Clint would never stop being grateful and amazed that Phil had chosen to share his life with him.

Glancing at the bed, Phil raised an eyebrow at the towels.

"I thought maybe a massage -- " Clint started, and then laughed as Phil's eyes lit up.

"God, yes."

"Lie down, then."

Phil draped the towel over the luggage rack to dry and climbed naked onto the bed, and Clint's cock twitched and took a decided interest in the proceedings. Phil settled on his stomach, hugging a pillow, and Clint reached down and grabbed the little bottle of oil he'd bought from the hotel gift shop before straddling Phil's hips. Phil hummed and stretched, stilling when he obviously stretched his sore shoulder a little too far.

Flipping open the cap, Clint poured some of the oil in his hands, warming it in his palms as the air filled with the scents of coconut and almond.

"Mmmm," Phil said, and Clint smiled.

"I was pretty sure you didn't want to smell like plumeria or lavender."

"Wouldn't have minded, I'm not planning on going anywhere tonight," Phil said, his words trailing off on a groan as Clint put his now slick hands on Phil's shoulders.

He kneaded carefully but firmly, using the soft sounds Phil made as a guide to tell how firm he could be without it hurting too much. Phil's gasps and groans made it a little difficult to concentrate, and he did his best not to grind his hardening cock into the crack of Phil's ass, wanting Phil to be as relaxed and comfortable as possible before he moved on to the next step in his plan.

His hands glided down the Phil's warm skin, digging into the tight knots, loosening what little tension was left of his everyday Agent Coulson persona after his relaxing day in the sun. He leaned over, giving into the urge to kiss Phil's shoulders, tracing Phil's freckles with his lips, and Phil moaned and rocked backward a little with his hips into the cradle of Clint's thighs.

"Shoulder feel okay?" Clint murmured, fingers still working at the strong muscles, loving the feel of Phil relaxing completely, going pliant under him. He softened his touches, caressing instead of kneading, feeding the fire building in both of them. Phil felt so good, _smelled_ so good, the hints of his shampoo and his shower gel mixed with the scent of the oil, and Clint couldn't help it now, rocking against his ass as he ran his fingers down the smooth skin of Phil's back, curling them around his shoulders to scratch lightly at his chest.

"So good," Phil murmured, his voice soft and a little slurred, and Clint grinned. "Always love your hands on me, Clint, feels so good. So strong!"

"You feel so good under my hands. God, I love touching you like this. All this firm muscle that only I get to touch."

"Mmmmmm, only you, always -- " Phil gasped as Clint trailed a line of kisses down his spine, lips soft against skin made sensitive under Clint's hands.

"So gorgeous, laid out like this, for me to see and touch and taste, God, Phil, look at you... this perfect ass, taunting me all day in that wetsuit, I just wanted to..."

Phil cried out as Clint nipped at one firm cheek and then the other, leaving faint red marks that faded slowly away. He nudged Phil's legs farther apart, smiling as Phil hurried to comply, bending one knee to open himself further to whatever Clint had in mind.

Reaching down, Clint grabbed the bottle of lube he'd picked up when he'd done their vacation shopping earlier, leaving it next to Phil's leg so it would warm. Phil obviously recognized what it was, judging by his soft moan. He grabbed one of the pillows and shoved it under his hips, raising his ass to give Clint better access, hips rutting into the softness a couple of times. Clint bit back a moan at the sight as he kicked off his pants, letting them fall to the floor. His hard cock brushed against the slightly rough texture of the beach towel on the bed, and he groaned, pushing back into it as he settled himself back between Phil's legs.

He kissed along the arch of Phil's spine again, squeezing the taut muscles of Phil's ass in each hand. Phil moaned at the feeling of Clint's breath on his skin, swearing and bucking into Clint's hands as Clint swiped his tongue down Phil's ass and lapped at his hole. He nuzzled closer and licked at the soft skin of Phil's balls, smiling as it drew a gasp from Phil, who was writhing under his hands, trying to get closer. He kissed his way back up until he could lick and suck at the tight ring of muscle, using the barest hint of teeth to make Phil shout a curse into the pillow.

Teasing him, Clint circled his tongue around Phil's hole, flicking it rapidly, and then lapping slowly from the base of his balls back up. His hands gripped Phil's ass firmly, holding him open, and he loved the way he could feel the muscles clench under his fingers, Phil's firm thighs flexing under him as he wriggled the tip of his tongue deeper. Phil scrabbled for any kind of hold on the bed, trying to rock further back onto Clint's tongue as he moaned Clint's name, and when Clint laughed, the vibrations shuddering through Phil, he bit back a curse, hands pushing against the headboard as he writhed in Clint's arms.

"More..." he groaned. "Fuck, _please_ , Clint, _more_."

"You want my fingers?"

"I want your cock, God dammit. Fuck me!"

"Oh, I will," Clint promised with a nip to the inside of Phil's cheek, easing a fingertip into Phil's ass. He slid it deeper, telling Phil, "I'm not in any hurry."

"Fuck, Clint, you're going to _kill_ \-- " His words broke off on a cry as Clint pushed his tongue back in along his finger. " _Fuck!_ "

"Love it when you fall apart like this, Phil. God, the little cries you make, the way you push back against me, your tight ass relaxing, getting ready for my cock."

He circled his tongue around Phil's hole again, easing his finger out. Keeping his tongue busy driving Phil crazy, he fumbled for the lube bottle and slicked up his fingers.

Slowly, he slid one finger in, and then a second, pausing when Phil gasped, waiting until he was panting again, moving restlessly back against Clint's hand. Clint took his time stretching Phil, opening him up, slowly adding a third finger, wanting it to be all pleasure and no pain. He scissored his fingers wide, tongue flicking against the sensitive rim of Phil's hole between them, and then he crooked his fingers just right, and Phil's voice broke on a sob.

" _Please!_ Fuck, I'm ready. Please, Clint."

"Ready for my cock?"

"God, _yes!_ " Phil was rocking desperately against Clint's fingers now, hips stuttering as he tried to get friction against his cock on the pillow under him. " _Clint!_ "

"Want me to fuck you?"

"Stop _teasing_ me!"

"Up." Clint slapped his ass, the sound sharp in the air. Phil rose on shaky legs until he was kneeling on the bed, legs wide, arched back slick with sweat as he grabbed the headboard.

"Fuck, _look_ at you," Clint growled. "Fucking beautiful."

Phil moaned, hands gripping the suede headboard so tight that his knuckles were white. It was wide, and solid, a perfect grip, and he leaned into it, ass spread wide, giving Clint an excellent view of his glistening hole.

Clint moaned as he slicked up his cock, hissing at the touch as it jumped it his hand. He settled himself between Phil's legs, rubbing his slippery cock up and down the crack of Phil's ass before nudging it against Phil's hole. Phil pushed back and they both groaned as Clint slid all the way in on one long push.

"Fuck, you feel so _good_ ," Clint breathed, resting his forehead on Phil's shoulder, hips circling the tiniest bit, grinding his cock into Phil's ass as Phil tried to get his breath back, hands tightening on the headboard as he spread his legs wider and arched back into Clint. "Jesus, the way your ass tightens around my cock..."

"I aim to please," Phil said, his voice wrecked. "Now fuck me!"

Clint pulled back slowly, drawing a whimper from Phil, and then thrust back in hard. Phil cried out and rocked into it, and Clint kept up the pace, fucking him hard and fast, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. He knew it wouldn't last long, the way he'd teased Phil for so long had put them both on edge, and he could already feel the shimmering fire of his orgasm building.

He licked at the freckles on Phil's shoulder, one hand tight on Phil's hip as he ran the other over Phil's sweat slick skin.

"So perfect, Phil," he moaned. "Love fucking your tight ass, God, the way you _move_..."

Phil grunted and fucked back onto his cock harder, gasping as Clint lightly pinched his nipple.

Clint teased his fingers lightly over Phil's straining cock, watching over his shoulder as it bobbed with every thrust. Phil whined in protest when Clint's fingers drifted lower, keened with pleasure when they stroked the sensitive skin of his balls.

"Feels like you're gonna come," Clint told him. "You gonna come soon, Phil?"

"Fuck, touch me, please, I need -- _yes_ ," he groaned as Clint's fingers circled his cock, grasping it lightly. "More, Clint! Harder!"

"Fuck you harder?" Clint said with a shaky laugh. "Okay."

Phil cried out as Clint's pounding thrusts got even harder. "God, _yes!_ So _good!_ "

"Gonna come soon, Phil," Clint told him, stroking his cock a little faster. "Fuck, you feel so good on my cock, gonna make me come so hard. Want me to come inside you?"

Phil's only answer was a moan.

"Fill you up so good?"

"Fuck, Clint, God!" Phil's words came out jagged with the force of Clint's thrusts, and all he could do was hang on.

"Your tight ass feels so good around my cock, Phil, Jesus. I'm gonna come so hard, fill you up so full, till you're dripping..."

Phil came with a gasp, sobbing Clint's name, and the feeling of his ass clenching around Clint's cock, his cock jerking in Clint's hand drove Clint over the edge too. He thrust in hard one last time, back bowing and hips grinding against Phil's ass as he emptied himself deep into Phil.

The world went white for a moment, and when he came back to himself, gasping for air, it was to the sight of Phil bent nearly double, head resting on the top of the headboard between his hands, arms and legs trembling from the strain of holding them both up.

He slowly pulled out, drawing a grunt from them both, and then pushed the towels out of the way, easing Phil down until he was lying on the sheets.

"Fuck," Phil murmured weakly.

"Mmm," Clint replied, as he half-collapsed at Phil's side. He drew Phil's hands into his own, gently rubbing at his fingers and knuckles to ease the tension out of them from where he'd been gripping the headboard so tightly.

Phil looked wrecked, eyes half-lidded, freckled skin flushed with sex, completely debauched, and despite the massive orgasm he'd just had, Clint felt heat burn through him at the sight.

"Gonna be okay for a minute?"

"Mmm." Phil flopped a hand around languidly, and Clint laughed, taking that as an affirmative. He struggled up on shaky legs and made his way into the bathroom.

He came back into the bedroom to find Phil sprawled atop the bed like a starfish, snoozing lightly. He flipped off the lights and grabbed the blankets off the floor as he passed them, tossing them onto the corner of the bed as he crawled back in.

Phil murmured sleepily as Clint gently cleaned him up with a warm washcloth and then tossed the washcloth across the room onto Phil's towel from earlier. He made sure there was a bottle of water in easy reach on the nightstand and then pushed and prodded at Phil's half-asleep limbs until he curled against Clint's chest, his head on Clint's shoulder as Clint pulled the blankets up over them.

He pressed a kiss to Phil's temple, and Phil smiled sleepily.

"'s a good bed. Good headboard," he mumbled suddenly. "Di'n' even bang agains' the wall."

Clint laughed, rousing Phil a little. "I, uh, may have taken a close look at the beds in the pictures when I was finding a hotel for us earlier."

"Well done, Agent," Phil said with a smile. "Excellent use of observational skills."

He snuggled closer, and Clint rested his head against the pillows, completely relaxed.

"Thank you," he whispered into Phil's still damp skin.

Phil laughed tiredly. "Pretty sure I should be thanking you. You did most of the work."

Clint grinned. "Yeah, it was really tough slogging, there. I meant for this. Our little vacation. It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't asked for it."

Phil smiled into Clint's chest. "Let's see, terrible traffic and icy slush and mountains of paperwork in New York versus surfing in a tropical paradise and getting well and truly fucked by a gorgeous man I love. It was such a difficult decision."

"Thank you for your sacrifice, truly," Clint shot back, trying to ignore the ridiculous tingle that zinged through him at Phil's casual use of the word _love_.

"As long as it's appreciated. Now go to sleep. We're getting up early."

Clint's eyes had slipped halfway closed, but they popped open at that. "Early?" he whined. "We're on leave!"

"Best waves are early in the morning, Barton."

Grumbling wordlessly, Clint settled into the blankets, drawing Phil closer. He was pretty sure he could persuade Phil that their morning energy would be better spent having fantastic sex. He'd formulate a very convincing argument. In the morning. Yes. That was an excellent plan.

Grinning, Clint slipped into sleep with Phil in his arms.

**END**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Phil knowing how to surf is inspired by a line in an episode of Agents of SHIELD. If you're having trouble picturing it, I present to you [a picture from Clark Gregg's twitter](https://twitter.com/clarkgregg/status/285949650849103872).


End file.
